


Goodnight, White Pride

by Wolferfly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Face Punching, Fights, Fist Fights, M/M, Nazis, Punching, Punching Nazis, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolferfly/pseuds/Wolferfly
Summary: Yuri and Otabek fight some Nazis.Warnings: Slurs, Violence.





	

“Hey faggots.” The words cut through the air like a knife, striking with the same stabbing force. Yuri felt Otabek squeeze his hand tighter, pulling him along. He could already feel the anger forming in the bottom of his stomach. This wasn’t the first time they had been called out in the streets of Russia and it most likely wouldn’t be the last, unfortunately. The Russian teen loved his home yet at the same time, it felt like the feelings weren’t always mutual. Yuri bit his lip, looking over at Otabek who just shook his head. He knew exactly what that look meant. Don’t bother. Yet, Yuri did want to bother. He wanted it to stop. He was tired of this treatment. The growl bubbled in Yuri’s chest as he tried to not turn around, only squeezing Beka’s hand harder.

“Did you not hear me? Hey faggots!” That was it. That was the final straw. It was time to stop this. To finally say enough is enough. Yuri spun on his heels, coming face-to-face with a group of three men. It was clear what they were, shaven heads and obvious Nazi tattoos on their exposed arms. One even had a black jacket with an eagle perched above a swastika. Nazis. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. They were Nazis as plain as day. Nazis here in Yuri’s Russia. The growl from earlier filled his throat as he clenched his teeth, eyes narrowed at the group of men. Unacceptable. 

“So your ears do work!” The middle one laughed, spitting at Yuri and Otabek. Otabek gently tugged on Yuri’s hand again. Yuri barely glanced at his boyfriend, body tense and heels firmly planted into the ground.

“Don’t give them the time of day. Come on.” Otabek tried to pull Yuri away only to have Yuri squirm from his hand. He was going to stand and fight. These men were at least 50lbs larger than the younger Russian boy. Muscled skinheads with nothing better to do than talk shit and lift weights. The anger was already ripping through Yuri, causing him to shake as he balled his fists, and avoiding looking at Otabek. His focus was on the men in front of him. The men who dared to sling slurs at him and Beka.

The group approached, laughing and pushing each other. Despite Otabek’s gentle pleading to just move on and ignore them, Yuri was not going anywhere. Not this time. He was not moving nor was he going to let them simply get away with this behavior. They had ignored it before and it ate at him, his mind always reeling over what they could have done. What HE should have done to respond to the situation and stand up for his friend, his boyfriend.

“Say it again.” His head snapped up, eyes narrowed further and staring down the three others. The words hissed through his clenched jaw, his fists clenching and unclenching as he attempted to control himself for a moment longer. “Say it to my fucking face.” The words were snarled, his teeth practically snapping on the words. 

“F.a.g.g.o.t.” The smaller one of the group sneered, spelling the word as if Yuri was too stupid to understand what he was saying before. “Or are you not a Russian? Do I need to speak in bitch language?” The rest of the group broke into raucous laughter as if this was the funniest thing they had heard. To Yuri, it made no sense. Nazis were as stupid as they looked. He felt a soft squeeze on his shoulder as Otabek tried to gently persuade him to leave. Yuri shook his head.

“Aw, I thought this little fairy would be the bottom bitch! Looks like the real pillowbiter is this Natasha*!” More laughter. The Kazakh teen only squeezed Yuri’s shoulder more. He knew Beka didn’t want to fight, he just wanted to leave. These jerks weren’t the effort. And yet, that was it. They had made it personal and directly went after Beka. This was not the moment Yuri would just turn heel and leave as they continued to sling slurs.

Yuri bit his lip and felt the burning rage hit a pit in his stomach. It twisted into knots, feeling like hot lead. He swallowed hard, letting the anger rip through him. The heat traveled from his stomach to his head, his hands, down his legs. It was an all-consuming rage and yet, he felt calm and collected. Determined even. He stepped forward, meeting the group of men in their approach. They couldn’t even raise an eyebrow before Yuri’s fist was connecting with the closet one’s stomach.

“Fuck. OFF.” Yuri was screaming the words so viciously, the spit could be seen in the air. The next blow was not from him, but from one of the other men, connecting with his face. Tears welled up in his eyes as the sting of the blow rang through his head. He had felt worse hitting the ice. He blinked back the tears, spinning to knee the man in his genitals, still screaming. The rage was building, only fueled by the retaliation from the Nazis.

“FUCK OFF!” There was a black blur out of the corner of his eyes at Otabek tackled the Nazi who had punched Yuri. In a blink of an eye, Otabek was sitting on the man’s chest, his fists repeatedly meeting the man’s face. His face, usually so stoic, was twisted with a rage Yuri hadn’t ever seen before. His eyes were on fire. The words Beka had told him when they first talked echoed in his mind. The eyes of a soldier. Determined. Full of something only described as fierce; fiery. The other two men rushed to grab Otabek off the Nazi but Yuri only used this opportunity to grab one, pulling him back and stomping on his face. The snap of a nose or cheekbone or both filled the air. He didn’t stop there, kicking him in the head before kicking the downed man repeatedly in the stomach.

“CALL ME A FAGGOT WILL YA!?” Yuri was screaming, feeling his voice grow hoarse. His head was throbbing with each kick, but he did not care. These were literal Nazis. Scum of the Earth who would kill Beka and him if given the chance. Human waste and garbage. Yuri spit on the man who was clutching his head and groaning, the blood visible from between his fingers.

Screaming filled the air, this time not from Yuri. The Russian teen spun, seeing Beka on the ground and grappling with the remaining still fighting Nazi. He was sitting on Otabek’s chest as he struggled to keep him from punching him in the face. Yuri could see the blood on his face from his split lip, most likely from a punch of the Nazi he was now struggling with. The rage bubbled up inside him again, his body tensing and his hands turning to fists again. His knuckles were raw and red.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HIM.” His words were hoarse, his screaming too loud for the words to make much sense. The bubbling rage spilled over, ripping through his body as he tackled the skinhead off of Otabek. His vision was blurry, but he could see enough to know where to punch. There was no rhyme or reason to where his fists were connecting, as long as they were connecting. A blow to Yuri’s stomach caused him to double over, vomiting onto the pavement. The rage was replaced by pain, stopping him in his tracks. Another fist connected with his face before he could even catch his breath and he felt the blood. The world faded then, going from red then to black.

Yuri had no idea how long he was blacked out for. It must not have been long since he came back to Otabek huddled over him, gently shaking him. Yuri groaned, swatting at Otabek instinctually. 

“Hey. Kitten. Hey. Come on. Get up.” Yuri blinked and then blinked again. Otabek’s face was full of a concern. This expression was something new to Yuri, especially since Beka wasn’t usually so expressive. As his eyes came to focus, he realized that it wasn’t concern on Beka’s face. It was fear. Yuri slowly sat up, groaning before collapsing against Otabek. His head was ringing and everything hurt. It felt like his whole body was screaming. Every thump of his heart only caused the pain to reignite, especially in his head.

“I’m up.” Yuri growled, though the growl was not towards Otabek and more towards the pain he was feeling. “Beka, are you-“ His sentence wasn’t even finished before Otabek cut him off, parting his hair to look at the cut on Yuri’s head. Yuri winced, biting his lip to hold back a small yelp.

“I’m fine.” Short. To the point. The fear was starting to fade from his face. “You?” Yuri nodded, wincing as the movement reignited the pain. He slowly stood, Otabek helping him up. He kept his eyes half-closed, slowly turning his head to look around. Only one of the Nazis was left, the one Yuri had crushed under his sneakers. The remaining two were nowhere to be found. Probably ran off to lick their own wounds. They even left their friend behind. Yuri chuckled to himself, leaning on Otabek for support. Pathetic.

“Maybe next time they’ll think about being so brazen, eh?” Yuri looked up at his boyfriend, shielding his eyes from the sun. Otabek’s face was mostly stoic, though there was that glimmer of concern in those brown eyes still. Yuri blushed realizing how concerned Beka was for his dumbass self. There was also the fact his eye was beginning to swell and change color. “Beka, your eye…”

“A lucky shot.” He said it so deadpan it caused Yuri to smile, his arms wrapping around Otabek’s. A lucky shot indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> *From the common Slavic woman's name, used in Turkey and other countries to refer to East European sex workers, and by extension to any East European woman, with the suggestion that they are all full service sex workers.
> 
> Remember, punch your local Nazis!


End file.
